No Man's Land
by Kristine Thorne
Summary: This is the sequel to Sober Awakening.


Disclaimer: All characters belong to the BBc.

A/N: Try listening to Heart's Greatest Hits while reading this, that's where all the lyrics come from. 

No Man's Land

Ric found himself continuously mulling over everything Connie had said, spending too much of the weekend sat out on his balcony, working how to talk to Zubin, without making it look as though he were fighting Connie's battles for her. He was well aware that she wouldn't appreciate this, and he didn't want to push her away again by incurring her more than fiery wrath. He didn't understand why Zubin was behaving the way he was. Did he really loathe Connie so much, as to put the knife in when she was at her most vulnerable? With this in mind, he went into work on the Monday morning, determined to speak to Zubin as soon as possible. 

"Do you have a moment?" He asked, after he and Zubin had visited a patient they would be operating on in theatre that afternoon. "If it's quick," Zubin said noncommittally. "I've got to prepare for my meeting with the board tomorrow." "Actually, it's about the board," Ric said, leading the way to his office. "Why," Zubin said as Ric closed the door behind them. "Are you hoping for a ringside seat?" "That's a little crass, don't you think," Ric replied, liking Zubin's attitude less and less. "She's on her way out, Ric, and it's all of her own doing. So please excuse me if I don't shed many tears." "Zubin, precisely why are you getting so involved?" "Ric, what are you talking about?" Zubin asked, utterly mystified. "Connie's stamped on one too many people, and now she's got to pay the price. What's wrong with that?" "What concerns me," Ric said carefully. "Is that you seem to be getting a kick out of it, not the most charitable attitude in the circumstances." "Ric, this doesn't sound remotely like the friend I know," Zubin said in offended dignity. "Have you forgotten how she treated you after you slept with her? Have you forgotten about all the new policies she introduced, taking all the credit for suggestions I had made? Have you forgotten how she has systematically ridden rough shod over every member of staff in this hospital?" "So why now?" Ric pursued, unwilling to give in just yet. "Because a very talented registrar is dead," Zubin said succinctly. "And because his wife is doing what he should have done months ago, making a complaint against the way Connie treated him." "Zubin, Connie might have been unprofessional in the way she treated Will Curtis, but that doesn't mean she killed him." "That's hardly the point," Zubin said dismissively. "No, I think it is the point," Ric said, his anger now beginning to rise. "Do you have any idea just how much she is punishing herself, for something that absolutely was not her fault? She went far and above her duty the night he died, and you know she did, you were there. You even told her she did, so why are you now twisting the knife as though you were judge, jury and executioner?" "She's really got under your skin, hasn't she," Zubin said in wonder, the pieces now fitting together. "She's got to you, and you've fallen for it. It's only an act, Ric, just a very well constructed act to get you on her side." "Zubin, this isn't about taking sides," Ric insisted vehemently. "This is about you taking advantage of someone at their most vulnerable, and it's not a side of you I like." "Then it appears we will have to agree to differ," Zubin said stonily. "Because I am not letting this one go." Turning on his heel, he strode out of Ric's office, the rage slowly beginning to bubble beneath the surface. 

Zubin was furious. How dare she, how dare that self-righteous, slut of an ice queen go whinging to Ric behind his back, trying to turn one of his own friends against him. Connie was only getting precisely what she deserved, so what the hell was Ric's problem. Yes, Zubin was quite ready to admit to himself that he did have a reason for wanting to get rid of Connie, but so what. She had pulled the blackmail card on him one too many times, and he wasn't about to let her stay around long enough to do it again. 

When Connie heard the knock on her office door and bade whoever it was to enter, she wasn't exactly pleased to see her arch enemy striding through her door. "What?" She said rudely, clearly in no mind to speak to him. Zubin just stood there staring at her, letting every ounce of hate and loathing he bore for her emerge. "Professor Khan," She said after a moment's silence, the words positively dripping with her usual scorn. "Instead of standing there, looking unbearably constipated, why don't you open your mouth, and tell me why you are cluttering up my office." "Was that your last ditch attempt at saving your career?" Zubin asked silkily, as he stealthily walked towards her. "I haven't the faintest idea of what you're going on about," She said, already sounding thoroughly bored. "Did you really think that Ric could make me back off?" Zubin asked, now leaning over the desk towards her. "Did you really think that getting Ric under your spell, would save that overused body of yours from having to visit the job centre after tomorrow's meeting?" "Zubin, apart from the usual, precisely what is your problem?" She asked, now beginning to lose her cool, because she thought she could see what had happened. Ric had obviously spoken to him, trying to fight a battle that was nobody's to fight but her own. "I don't like it," Zubin said quietly but furiously. "When people manipulate others into supporting them. I especially don't like it, when it involves one of my closest friends." "Jesus, that's rich," Connie said disgustedly, having had more than enough of his diatribe. "What sort of friend, Professor Khan, would go around screwing his best friend's daughter? Because we both know just what Ric is going to think of that little bombshell, when it deigns to put in an appearance." "Leave Jess Griffin out of this," Zubin said stonily, realising that he'd well and truly fallen into her trap. "Really?" Connie questioned with an icy laugh. "Because I'd say she was very much part of this, wouldn't you. Let's face it, that's why you're doing this, isn't it, to get me out of the way, just in case I should happen to let it slip, just what sort of friend you really are." "How many times are you going to hold that over me?" Zubin asked, wanting an answer to this once and for all. "As many as it takes," Connie said firmly. "Until, in fact, you crawl out from under your particularly loathsome rock, and explain to your 'Friend', how you've been taking your duties as godfather just a little too far." Before Zubin could respond, both their pagers began to bleep. "Well, shall we carry on this conversation in theatre?" Connie said as she got to her feet. "Because I think we may be joined by the expectant grandfather to be." "Connie, if you say one word to Ric about this, I'll..." "...You'll what," Connie taunted silkily. "You'll do your damnedest to professionally bury me? Oh no, I forgot, you're trying very hard to do that already." As Zubin turned defeated to the door, Connie watched him go, her disgust for him now being replaced with the slow, inexorably building anger at Ric for interfering like this. Before leaving her office, she reached over to her computer, and removed the CD that she'd paused when Zubin had knocked on her door. She didn't usually play music in theatre, but today she needed it, anything to keep her anchored until her anger could have free rein. 

When Connie arrived in theatre, Ric was already there. "We've got an RTA with both chest and abdominal trauma," He told them as they began to scrub up. Before Zubin put the patient to sleep, Connie had a quick word with her, to try and assure her that they would do all they could. These words didn't mean anything to her now, she thought bleakly, because she was no longer sure of her own ability to fulfill that particular promise. When the woman had been thoroughly anesthetised, and they were ready to start, Connie handed her CD to one of the nurses. "I do hope you gentlemen don't mind," She said in a tone that said that she didn't care if they did. "But I feel like some music today." "That'll make a nice change," Ric commented, seeing something different in Connie, a forced politeness that didn't bode exactly well for anyone in her vicinity. When they heard the first few bars of the Heart album she'd brought with her, Zubin raised a weary eyebrow. "Must it be angry rock music, Connie?" "Yes," Connie said curtly. "Unless Mr. Griffin objects, that's what we're listening to today." "Keep me out of it," Ric said mildly, as he bent to his task. "The patient might not like it," Zubin insisted. "She does, I asked her," Connie responded immediately, though they all knew her reply to be fictitious. Ric looked up for a moment and laughed. "You can't argue with that one, Zubin," He said with a broad smile. "Typical," Zubin muttered into his machines, clearly seething. "Got something to say, Professor Khan?" Connie asked silkily. "Because I'm sure we would all be pleased to hear it." "Nothing you need to comment on," Was Zubin's bitter retort. "Good," Connie said a little too brightly. "Because we usually prefer any blood on these walls to come from our patients, don't we, Mr. Griffin." "Connie, whatever argument you and Professor Khan currently have simmering below the surface," Ric said, sounding more than a little annoyed. "Will you please leave me out of it." "Funny," Connie murmured almost to herself. "But I thought that those who preferred to inhabit no man's land, didn't usually try to fight one side's battles for them, or have I missed something here." Apart from the music and the incessant beeping of the monitors, there was a long, awkward silence. "Suction please," Ric told the theatre sister, not willing to have this fight in public. He knew what her problem was now, or at least he thought he did. After he had spoken to Zubin, the stupid man had obviously informed Connie of Ric's attempt to get him to back off. Now he thought about it, he could feel her anger burning below the surface, mustering every ounce of her strength for the forthcoming row. When the next track of the album began playing, Connie smirked evilly, moving her gaze between both of the men in front of her. 

"If looks could kill,  
You'd be lying on the floor. You'd be begging me please, please,  
Baby don't hurt me no more." 

"Quite relevant in the circumstances, don't you think," Connie said a little icily. "Would Mrs. Beauchamp like to tell us what her problem is today?" Zubin asked as if talking to a four-year-old. "Or would she prefer to continue with her tantrum for the rest of this operation." "Well, I'd say that depends on which particular issue you are referring to," Connie replied caustically, absent-mindedly twirling the scalpel between finger and thumb, before returning to her task. "Though I would caution you to tread very, very carefully, if you don't want to lose what may possibly be a rather precious part of your body. Do I make myself clear?" "Threatening a colleague is hardly going to improve your case with the board," Zubin told her sweetly, almost enjoying the fact that he thought she was getting herself in even deeper. "And your antagonising a colleague won't exactly improve the hospital's case," Ric put in curtly. "So drop it, the pair of you." When yet another track began, Connie smiled broadly. 

"I'm so tired of these men, trying to impress me with nothing," She sang, almost reveling in the scorn she could pour over every word. But as the song progressed, and the chorus began, Zubin had a smile of his own. 

"I had a tall dark handsome stranger. I've had the devil in disguise. I've been attracted to the danger,  
But I was never satisfied." 

"Sounds like your song, Connie," Zubin said with a laugh. "A woman who's had every man going." "At least I'm not acting like an adolescent in mid pubescent crisis," Connie replied instantly, with such a depth of loathing that Ric began to wonder precisely what was eating her. This wasn't just about the board where Zubin was concerned, there was something else, something he didn't know. "Besides," Connie said with a smirk. "You're only jealous because you've never sampled the goods as it were. Mr. Griffin has, and I can assure you, he enjoyed every minute of it, didn't you, Mr. Griffin." "Oh, and as if I'd ever want to sample something that's been had by virtually every consultant and registrar in this hospital. You put it about even more than Chrissie, and that's saying something." "Zubin," Ric said coldly. "Find another anesthetist now." "Why?" Zubin asked, clearly not seeing the point. "Because Connie is the only cardio thoracic surgeon who can operate today, and because having the two of you in the same room is hardly conducive to any amount of surgical success, never mind retaining one's sanity." "Are you kicking me out of my own theatre?" Zubin asked in aghast astonishment. "This is not your theatre, and yes, I am kicking you out. Now find someone else before I do it myself." When an alternative had come to relieve Zubin and he had slunk miserably away, Connie thought she had better stay quiet. She knew she'd pushed it with Zubin, but he wound her up with every pointless word he uttered. "Do you mind telling me what's got into you today?" Ric asked her quietly as they worked. "I'm sure you'll be the first to find out," She promised bitterly. "Just as soon as I'm not in danger of using this scalpel for something illegal." Looking briefly into her eyes, Ric could see the hurt as well as the anger. She had trusted him, lowered all her barriers on Friday night, and it felt to her as though he'd turned that to his advantage by talking to Zubin on her behalf. "I'm sorry," Ric said gently, for the moment ignoring the fact that they had an audience. "Drop it," Connie hissed at him. "Now is neither the time nor the place." "Connie..." "Don't," She interrupted, and he could hear the slight quiver in the voice that told him she was still finding it immensely difficult to control her emotions. They carried on working in silence, the music providing both of them with a refuge, something to come between them to curtail the need to speak to each other. But when the patient had been sewn up, and they were back in the scrub room washing their hands, Ric wanted to reach out to her, to in some way make up for what he had done. "I think we need to talk," He said a little hesitantly. "Oh, you can bet on it," She said firmly, sweeping out of the scrub room doors, the threat and promise of her anger now coming to the boil. 

After returning the CD to her office, Connie strode purposefully along the corridor to Ric's. Knocking smartly on his door, she waited for his invitation to enter. When she appeared, Ric gave her a lopsided smile. "The mood you're in today, I'm surprised you bothered to knock," He said, watching her stalk towards him. Leaning her hands on his desk as she faced him across it, she said in tones that would flatten a lesser mortal, "Don't you ever, do that to me again." "Do what?" He asked, knowing what he'd done but wanting her to say it. "Try to fight a battle that isn't yours to fight. You had absolutely no right to try and warn Zubin off on my behalf, and all you've done is make everything worse, if that was possible. I've stood up for myself for the greater part of my life, and I'm not about to give up now. Is this because of Friday night? Is this because I did one of the stupidest things I've ever done, and let you see me at what felt like my lowest point? Why, Ric, why did you have to do that?" "Connie," Ric said carefully, not in the least perturbed by her anger, but unwilling to increase it if he could help it. "This has absolutely nothing to do with what happened on Friday night. I would have said what I did to Zubin without that, because he is barking entirely up the wrong tree by maintaining the position he is. I would have been going against every principle I have if I'd stayed quiet." "I'm sorry," She said, sounding as though she had been cheated out of her row. She was standing in front of the window by this time, not looking at him, almost fearful of meeting his penetrating gaze. From where he sat at his desk, he could see the rigidity in her posture, the ever present desire to maintain control of her feelings, something she was finding ever more difficult as time went by. Rising from his chair, he walked slowly over to her, eventually laying a hand on her left shoulder. "Why is it so difficult," He asked gently. "For you to occasionally accept help when you need it?" She flinched at his words, and had to suppress the urge to flee from them. "I, erm, I don't like being vulnerable," She said eventually, her voice not entirely steady and with her still determined not to meet his eyes. "And after you seeing me passed out and then throwing my guts up, that's exactly how I feel." She looked momentarily astounded at herself for saying such a thing, as if the words themselves had emerged of their own accord. He could feel the slight tremble as she strove to keep her tears at bay, and he found that he just didn't know how to persuade her that it was perfectly all right to cry. "Connie, I'm not going to take advantage of how you might feel," He told her quietly. "Why not," She demanded bitterly. "I'd have thought that kicking someone when they're down, was the perfect way forward." "I wish you'd stop trying to cast me and Zubin in the same mould," He slightly admonished her. "I'm not used to this, Ric," She said, trying to explain the feelings that neither seemed to be up nor down. "I'm not used to someone, anyone, being nice, for want of a better word, to me, without some sort of ulterior motive. Neither can I begin to understand why you are doing this, unless you are still carrying a candle from last June, which I doubt." "Connie..." He began, not knowing how to explain the position he was in, but he was saved by the bell, or at least the pager. Removing it from his belt, he flipped it open and glanced at the screen. "No rest for the wicked," He said, putting it back on his belt. "Connie, we haven't finished this conversation." "We'll see," She said noncommittally, not wanting him to feel obliged to say or do anything he didn't actually feel. "Connie, listen to me," He said, turning her to face him and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Yes, I am tied up for the rest of the day, but hopefully only until this evening. I am not going anywhere, and we are going to talk about this. All right?" "I don't want to need this," Connie said almost in a whisper, as a solitary tear escaped and ran down her cheek. "I know," He said, delicately wiping it away with a finger. "But at the moment, you do, so please just accept it." "I'm still furious," She said with a watery smile as they walked towards the door. "Well, maybe we'll do something about that later," He said, wondering precisely what it would take to exorcise the Connie Beauchamp wrath. 

After all the operations and ward rounds had been completed, and Connie felt that she could finally say goodnight to this place for another day, she yet again tapped on Ric's office door. He was pleased to see her looking brighter this time, though the unreleased tension was clearly still in evidence. "I need a drive," She said without a greeting. "You coming?" "Yes, all right," Ric said with curiosity. "I wouldn't mind seeing you put that car through its paces." "Oh, like I did with you, you mean?" She said, playfully waggling her eyebrows at him. "Well, that's not quite how I would describe the end of your first day here, but yes, if you like." "Be prepared for the ride of your life, Mr. Griffin," She promised silkily. "Because I don't take any prisoners when I'm behind the wheel." "I don't doubt it," He said as he approached her, feeling that old electricity crackling between them again, though he was old and wise enough to see that this was mostly an act with her. 

As it was just after six on a Monday evening, the city centre of Holby was heaving. "Come on!" Connie said impatiently as she waited at the interminable traffic lights. "I want to break the speed limit, not sit still all bloody night." "Is that why you brought me along?" Ric asked, grinning at her as she furiously gripped the wheel. "To act as witness." "No, I brought you along to look out for speed cameras," She said matter-of-factly. "I can't keep an eye on those, and drive like Damon Hill at the same time." "Well, lets hope we don't meet the chief exec in the fast lane of the M5," Ric said dryly. "Or I suspect you'll find yourself suffering from a severe bout of road rage." "Quite bloody right," She said, approaching the motorway and flipping on the CD she'd been playing in theatre. As she moved into the steadily flowing stream of fast lane traffic, she turned the music up a little louder, and put her foot down. God, it was utterly exhilarating to be in control of such a powerful machine, to for once in her life, be in utter control of her own destiny, and Ric's come to that. He couldn't help but admire her skill, the way her hands rested lightly on the wheel, almost caressing it rather than steering it, with her long, beautiful legs stretched out to the pedals. She'd opened the window slightly so that her soft, curly hair blew lightly in the wind. But when she also began to join in with the CD, Ric knew she was finally beginning to let loose all that tension that had been building up in her all day. She often sang an octave below the singers, her low, slightly husky voice moulding itself around the words. Ric tried to keep an eye out for speed traps for her, but her absolute control of her car, even as the needle of the speedometer grazed a hundred, totally captivated him. He knew what it was like to need a buzz, to desperately want to feel the adrenalin rush of taking a pretty severe risk, but this was different. Connie was pushing her car to the limits of its capability, and she was loving every minute of it. She had both their lives quite literally in her hands, and she was achieving her release by it. She kept on singing as she drove, and this too captured his attention. It felt as though she was opening her soul, letting out all the anger that had been fermenting inside her all day, to let it soar away above her, to eventually dissipate among the fluffy clouds that dotted the horizon. 

When she finally turned off and began making her way back, she lowered the volume of the music and grinned at him. "You see, driving really is better than sex. Well, sometimes anyway." Ric laughed. "That's not something I would have expected to hear from you," he couldn't help saying. "When I drive, as opposed to when I sleep with someone," She explained with a smile. "I only have to put up with my own inadequacies, not someone else's." "Well, I suppose if you put it like that, I can see the advantages," Ric replied dryly. "But then, you do both with extreme skill, so I can hardly comment." "Flattering my ego Mr. Griffin?" "Why not," Ric said lightly. "It could probably do with it at the moment." When they drew up outside his flat, he asked, "Do you fancy a drink?" "Yes, perhaps I do," She replied, foregoing her immediate reply of that being the most predictable come on she'd ever heard. 

When she followed him upstairs, it occurred to her that he must have helped her up them last time. "I can't believe I passed out while you were making coffee," She said as he unlocked the door. "Well, it did have one little bonus," Ric said as he let her in. "It did prevent you from telling me any more about Mubbs." "That was your fault," Connie protested. "You shouldn't have asked about him." "I was finding it very difficult not to laugh," He told her, moving towards the kitchen. "Red or white?" "White please, I've got to be in good shape for the board tomorrow." When he returned and handed her the glass, she took a sip, and then put it down on the coffee table by the sofa. "Ric," She said tentatively, as though unsure how to proceed. "I don't entirely know why you're doing this Mr. Nice Guy act, but while it lasts, thank you." "I think there was a backhanded compliment in there somewhere," Ric said with a smile, brushing a strand of hair back from her face. "And it's not an act, I promise." "I would like to believe that," She said softly, her eyes fixated on his. "But that might take a while." When their lips inevitably met, he held her gently to him, perhaps seeing this as her way of trying to cling to something normal, something she knew. God, she had remembered every inch of those lips, and every move they'd made to entice her to him. They moved as if programmed towards the bed, dropping onto it in a tangle of dueling tongues and wandering hands. But when Connie felt his hand deftly stroke her breast through her clothing, his agile thumb grazing her hardening nipple, she froze. This was about as far as she'd got with Will. This was precisely when she'd turned Will away, told him that the power was the only thing she wanted. 

"No!" She said in shock at what she was doing. "I shouldn't be doing this." As they separated slightly and lay staring at each other, Ric felt unbearably guilty. Connie said that it was she who shouldn't be doing this, but he also should have known better. "I'm sorry," He said, which made her wince, because he had nothing to be sorry for. "Ric, this is my fault," She said, feeling bitterly humiliated under his gentle scrutiny. "Come on," He said after a moment's silence as he got up from the bed. "Lying on a bed is hardly going to make this easier to talk about." Refusing to look at him, Connie followed him over to the sofa, hoping she could get through this without feeling any more pathetic than she already did. 

"Are you still smoking?" He asked, retrieving an ashtray for her. "Sort of," She said, digging the faithful habit formers out of her handbag. "I will give up, tomorrow." "Sure," He said, sitting down beside her. "Just like I won't want to back a horse tomorrow." After lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag, Connie finally broached the reason for her refusal. "You remember the night of your party?" "As it was my fiftieth, I doubt I'll ever forget it," Ric answered dolefully. "I almost slept with Will." "Ah," Ric said in dawning comprehension. "So, who said no, you or him?" "I did," She astonished Ric by telling him. "I told him, that I just wanted to prove I could have him." Ric winced. "I know," She agreed, finally raising her eyes to meet his. "Not the nicest thing I've ever said by any means. He'd been playing hard to get, right up until that night, his marriage obviously meaning more to him than I thought it did. But when he finally gave in, god, it would have been incredible if I'd let it happen, mostly because he was so furious with me for breaking through his barriers. There's nothing quite like sleeping with someone who's bitterly angry about something, and if you've caused the anger, it's even better for all concerned. Will Curtis might not usually have been into rough sex, but I think he would have been that night. I know it's terrible, but to niggle away at him until he couldn't say no any longer, and then to take it back out of his reach, that gave me the biggest power kick imaginable, and no, before you ask, that isn't why I just said no to you. Lying there like that, it just reminded me of how much of a bitch I really was to him. I barely gave him a moment's peace, before or after, so maybe now I'm paying for it." "It doesn't work like that, Connie," Ric told her gently, seeing just how much she regretted her cruel actions of the past. "If it did, I wouldn't have a day's peace left in my life." "This sounds incredibly stupid," She said, turning her face a little away from him to avoid his gaze. "But I think part of me feels that it would be wrong to feel any enjoyment from anything, and no, I didn't say it was going to make sense." "Don't be so defensive," He admonished her gently. Then, after a moment's thought, he asked, "When you were with Will in ITU, did he say anything to you?" "Erm, yes, he did," Connie said a little unsteadily, those few minutes burned irrevocably into her soul. "He, erm, he, he said thank you." The pain this memory had caused was clear to see in her eyes, the tears having again resurfaced. "Then don't you think," Ric said carefully, seeing how difficult it was for her to either let go or stay in control. "That he might have forgiven you?" "I don't know, do I," She said furiously, hating the fact that Ric was seeing her like this. "Connie, he trusted his life to you," Ric told her gently but firmly, reaching out his arms to offer her the only comfort he could. "I'd say that was the highest praise going, wouldn't you?" "Oh, and a lot of good that did him," She countered back bitterly. "You don't need to keep punishing yourself like this," He said, his face resting in her hair. "It's not going to help you, and it isn't going to help will." "I loathe the way I am at the moment," She told him miserably. "I can't sleep, I can't stop sniping at everybody, though that's nothing new. I can't stop crying, which just isn't me, and I can't even go through with sleeping with someone, because I'm pretty sure I won't enjoy it." "I think you're depressed," Ric said carefully, knowing that this observation might not be all that welcome. "Yes, thank you, doctor, I think I'd just about managed to work that one out for myself." "Never a dull moment with you, is there," He said with a light laugh, and at the same time knowing she wouldn't do anything about it unless forcefully cajoled, not something he was about to attempt just yet. They sat close together for a while, softly talking and drinking their wine. Connie badly needed the comforting arms he was giving her, but this confused her. She wasn't supposed to need support, she wasn't supposed to need a friend. Her life had been made up of far too much self-sufficiency for needing things like cuddles, yet here she was taking part in one as if it were her right. "I ought to go," She said eventually. "Michael's usually at home on a Monday, and I really haven't got the energy to think up a new excuse." "What's the story with Michael?" Ric asked, not wanting to probe, but being nevertheless curious. "My marriage is, complicated," She replied, hesitating over the correct adjective. "Aren't they all?" Ric said dryly. "You've forgotten I've had four of them, and almost a fifth." "Jesus, talk about being a glutton for punishment," Connie said with a smile. "I suppose I must have loved him once," She said almost speculatively. "But I can't really remember it. We stay married because we quite literally can't be bothered to get divorced. He's been through most of his secretaries, as I have my staff. It's very rare these days that either of us feels especially guilty for it, so we just keep going as we are." "Does he know about what's going on at work?" "He's, aware of it," Connie said evasively. But when she got up to leave, tearing herself away from what was slowly becoming a refuge, she couldn't help but wonder what would happen when it came out who Michael really was. 


End file.
